Five Years Can Turn Anybody Into Anything
by singingmyheartsong
Summary: It's been five years since Lyla Garrity has last been in Dillon, and she is pulled back home when her father, Buddy Garrity, sends her a letter asking for her to be his defense lawyer when he goes to trial for money laundering. Everything is both the same and different since Lyla was last there, especially her old flame, Tim Riggins, whom she is drawn to like a moth to the flame.
1. Chapter 1

Down an orange-tinted Texan interstate sped a pretty silver Hyundai Sonata whose destination was a small town far on the outskirts of Austin, the city it came from. Inside the vehicle, a beautiful, petite, twenty-something sat in the drivers seat while several of her bags flooded the back seats of the sedan and in the passenger seat sat her expensive tan Kate Spade purse with a white envelope sticking out like a sore thumb. Addressed to Lyla Garrity, the letter contained a desperate plea from a convict to his beloved, estranged daughter. The convict needed legal (and familial) representation and hoped with all his heart that his daughter, a newly minted lawyer, would come to his aid. It's clear from the state of the letter and it's damaged, frayed envelope that this was not an easy request for it's recipient to accept.

Right at this moment in time, Lyla had other matters troubling her mind. (A first, as the letter captured her attention every moment since it came into her hands.) Rather, Lyla's anxiety stemmed from one little disturbing fact: she hadn't been back home to Dillon much since she first started college five years ago. No one in Austin has ever heard of Dillon. When she tells them it's home of the number one high school football team in all of Texas, it's met with stares and shrugs. Lyla learned quickly that high school football is not as important to people outside of Dillon. Out in the city, it was all about college football and the NFL. You weren't considered a true fan of football unless you owned an orange Longhorns sweatshirt and a navy Dallas Cowboys hat with one perfect white star. High school football never entered the radar unless UT was out scouting for top tier recruits.

But even then, Lyla had opted for law school, where football had no place. Law students knew nothing about football and had no desire to learn about it. Her stories of Dillon and their passionate devotion to the sport bored her colleagues. Those who expressed interest treated her like a foreign exchange student, as if Dillon and it's all it's football devotees were from a whole other country. Five years was enough time for Lyla to get used to the culture shock and carve out a life for herself in Schulman & White Law Firm in Austin, Texas.

But driving down this old familiar road brought the life and the memories she'd left behind back to the forefront. It almost seems like a lifetime ago that she had been a cheerleader for the Dillon Panthers, cheering on her high school sweetheart and quarterback Jason Street. It seemed like a dream – a nightmare. She was not the same girl who had left Dillon five years ago. She had evolved into the successful woman that she is now.

A road sign approached her. _Dillon – Next Exit_, it read. Lyla took a deep breath and ever-so-slowly let it escape, hoping that her deepest fears would blow out of her system and trail behind her in the plume of red dust her car had kicked up. Elvis blared out of her car radio crooning, "_It's now or never…_" and Lyla couldn't help but concur. "It's now or never," she spoke aloud as her car veered into the exit off the interstate and onto the dirt-filled highway.

Dillon was too small a town to warrant a welcome sign, but the parading restaurants and businesses greeted her just fine and their alternating red and purple décor gave Lyla that warm, calming feeling of home. As she passed the Alamo Freeze, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia struck her. She remembered the nights spent with Jason there and hanging out with her cheerleading friends. One night a spot of chocolate fudge stained a small patch on her uniform and Jason raced to help get it clean. Passing the high school brought up uglier memories. The sickening crunching sound of a linebacker tackling Jason. The way he laid so still as the crowd watched in eerie silence. Lyla could still feel that surge of panicked adrenaline filling her entire body as they brought out the stretchers. She couldn't help but remember that devastating sense of rejection after all the girls in the school learned of her affair with Tim Riggins and turned on her.

It wasn't long before she had found herself in front of her father's apartment. She missed her old house, the one they used to live in before the divorce. Lyla spent some of her last days in Dillon in this apartment and it never quite felt like home. It felt temporary and she could not believe that her father still had not found a more permanent residence than this bland two-room beige apartment. Her father made Lyla keep her key to the place even after she left for college and now she was thankful for it.

Five whole years away from the temporary residence, and nothing had changed. It was like walking out of a time machine and into the past. The only noticeable difference was the replacement of purple Dillon Panther decorations for red East Dillon Lions décor. It didn't take longer than a few minutes to get her stuff up to the spare bedroom and to feel restless.

Lyla's sense of duty compelled her toward the county corrections center that held her father captive. She thought she had dressed appropriately for the jailhouse, wearing a nice tan business suit with a white cami underneath and black closed-toe heels, but that wasn't enough to dissuade the attention of a few prisoners who eyed her like she was a fine piece of steak being dangled in front of their cells. Finally the guard stopped at her father's cell.

"This is your lawyer, Garrity," the guard rasped. "Make it quick."

Sitting in the cell was Buddy Garrity. Dressed neck down in an orange jumpsuit, the man in the cage looked older and wearier than she had ever remembered. His salty hair was longer than it should have been and his body was rounder than the last time she'd seen him. His face, though. It wore the burdens of an old man who had a lot of time to think about all the regrets in his life. But when her father's face looked upon her, it lit up like a Christmas tree. "Lyla!" He softly exclaimed with that infallible Texan accent. "You came!"

It was hard to smile at the man who had disappointed her time after time, but not even she could deny that her father loved her very much. That everlasting unconditional love was one thing Lyla found worth smiling for, and so a little sliver of a grin made its way onto her face. "Of course I came," she replied easily. "Where else would I be?"

It had been five years since he'd seen his eldest daughter and it was like no time had passed. Her face was still beautiful and full of youth and optimism just like the day she left for college. Still, she was his baby girl, yet there was something different about her poise. She was no longer a girl, he realized. Standing before him was a woman. Not even that, but a woman of the working world. Lyla was truly a self-sufficient working woman. With his own eyes he could see that she no longer needed to rely on him but it was now he who needed to rely on her. Truly a chilling realization.

"I'm so glad you're here, Lyla. Honestly. It's been a nightmare being here and seeing your bright face is a dream come true."

"Dad, we need to talk. About a lot of things." Lyla hadn't exactly been anticipating this reunion and the sentimentality was a bit too much. "I'll represent you as your attorney, but you have to be completely honest with me."

"Of course, sweetheart. I would never be anything but honest with you."

It's not that Lyla had heard this line before, but she knew better. Her dad has withheld information from her before. She wanted so bad to bring up the bankruptcy that nearly cost Lyla her college career, but she held her tongue.

"Right. Well I'll return in the morning and you can tell me everything you know."

Lyla turned to walk away as Buddy asked, "Are you staying in the apartment?"

She didn't turn back around, but answered, "Of course."

"Good. That makes me happy," he responded with relief.

"I'll see you in the morning, Dad." And with that, Lyla left, anxious to get out of there. Buddy watched his attorney and his daughter walk away where he couldn't follow and his heart swelled with joy and heartbreak. This is not how he wanted the reunion with his beloved daughter to be. Sitting back down on his cot, he began to think about how he got himself in this mess and how he was going to begin to explain it to his daughter in the morning.

Alternately, Lyla was wondering what exactly she was doing back here in Dillon. Something about being here was different. It was almost like the town abandoned her. She felt the distance between herself and all the old familiar places. Where was the sense of home she was supposed to feel being back here? Suddenly it struck her what was so different. It wasn't that Dillon was so different or that the town had evolved without her. On the contrary, really. It was herself that was so different from Dillon. It was Lyla who had evolved without Dillon. It made her feel so incredibly lonely and homesick, but she didn't know where home was.

Lyla found herself at the bar around four in the afternoon, which is odd because she didn't drink anymore except for the occasional glass of red wine at dinner. What on Earth possessed her to come here, she didn't know, but something was pulling her here and she was curious as to what it was.

It came to Lyla as soon as she entered the building. She was looking for a familiar face. It didn't have to be a friendly face, but just one she could put a name and a memory to. She was mostly out of luck. She was unfamiliar with the bartender, and three of the four patrons. One seemed familiar but she couldn't connect the face with a name.

Sitting down at the bar, she drew the attention of nearly all the scruffy, beer-bellied, dirty, tattooed men in the place. She most certainly stood out with her crisp clean khaki slacks and matching blazer. Also her age. And gender. That _definitely_ caught their attention.

The brusque bartender immediately walked over as soon as she landed on her stool. "What can I getcha, honey?" He asked with that familiar southern twang, wiping down a clean liquor glass.

"Beer." She replied kindly with a convincing yet false smile. "From the tap."

He gave her a nod; the kind that implied you'll come to regret your decision. "As you wish," he stressed for extra effect.

Lyla would be annoyed if she weren't surrounded by four other men who were clearly there to drown their miseries. No happy and content person comes into a bar at happy hour. It made Lyla wonder what exactly that said about her.

The bartender slid the plastic mug of amber liquid topped with white foam her way. She felt she had something to prove being who she was and sitting in that establishment at that time of day, so she took a gulp of her drink and didn't set the mug back down until it was nearly half empty. The bitter wheat taste coated her mouth and she felt like she was sixteen again at the homecoming bonfire after party with Jason and Tim. Two of the older gentlemen quit paying her any attention. The third, who was not as old but could possibly be her uncle, quit staring at her but she was definitely on his radar. The fourth one, the familiar looking one, paid her little attention anyway and had gone back to emptying glasses of scotch.

She couldn't help wondering about Jason and Tim, even his old girlfriend Tyra. What were they doing with their lives now? Were they happy? It's hard to imagine any of them happy after all they've been through. Jason's paralysis, Tim and Tyra's demanding families dragging them through the gutter. Not a one of them had much to feel happy about in high school and not a one of them was destined for college and a career like Lyla. She hoped dearly she was wrong about every one of them.

Her head was starting to get fuzzy. It was a feeling Lyla never liked much, but sometimes it's good to suppress unwanted memories and pain. She wasn't drunk or anything, but she could start to feel a slight disconnection with her motor skills. The clock only said five o'clock. Where had that hour gone? More guys had come since she last noticed. A pair of bikers had taken a booth over in a dark corner. They paid her no mind. A trashy girl with ripped capri jeans, six-inch-heels, no bra under her white lace-lined cami, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth was the object of some dirty sleazebag's attention. He stroked her shoulder and messed her already disheveled blonde hair. Lyla even caught his repulsive touch cupping and squeezing her small breasts. Another woman had come in, but she was sad and old and dressed in the blandest of colors. She wished to drink here as invisibly as she could.

And just when Lyla was about to leave the depressing atmosphere, a familiar face walked in and stepped up to the bar.

"Yo, Randy. Gimme a Jack D," said the tall, portly guy with grease stains all over his clothes with several black streaks smudged across his face. He was so much younger than all of the men who loitered here, but looked just as tired. Lyla was overcome with joy seeing him.

The bartender, Randy, slid his glass tumbler full of a dark reddish-brown liquid, which Billy drained clean as Lyla approached him. "Billy Riggins," she said with a hint of playful disapproval, which the broad smile on her wine-painted lips betrayed, "Why I never."

"Jesus Christ!" Billy shrieked on sight. "Randy," he called out to the bartender, who looked up at him from his spot behind the bar, "do you see her? Please tell me you see her because otherwise, I'm seeing a ghost now. Did you give me absinthe instead of Jack?"

Randy stared back blankly and nodded his head toward Lyla. "She's real."

Lyla couldn't hold back the grin that formed on her face.

"Good goddamn. Lyla Garrity!" Billy got up from his stool and swiftly pulled her into a hug. The kind of hug you give to a dear old friend. Non-romantic, but tender. Nostalgic. Lyla would find it peculiar if she weren't so wrapped up in her own feelings of wistful reminiscence. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"The bar or Dillon?" She asked as they pulled away from each other and sat down on their stools.

"Fuckin' both!" He exclaimed and called out to Randy for another round, adding he'll take care of Lyla's bill.

"Billy, that is not necessary," she pleaded, but he insisted, adding she can order whatever she wants.

Billy had to give her a once over, and Lyla couldn't help but wonder if any grease stains got on her clothes. "For real, Lyla. What in the hell are you doing back here? We all thought you'd long gone and weren't ever turning back."

"Ah, I'm a sucker for nostalgia," she said taking a gulp of her second mug of beer.

"Bullshit," Billy called out playfully. "No'one comes back to Dillon without a reason."

He was right and she knew it. She hasn't even heard from Jason in years. Has anyone heard from him since he left for New York? Perhaps Tim had. They were best friends after all.

It was weird how she knew Tim was still here. She didn't even have to ask Billy. Tim would never leave Texas. Tim would never leave _Dillon_. Everything he ever had was here. There was nothing the outside world could provide him that Dillon didn't already. It made Lyla sad just thinking about it. She banished Tim from her mind.

"Ok," she said after a brief spell. "You may be right."

"Spill," Billy demanded.

She sighed into her mug. There was still a good third of her drink left. The amber liquid flowed down her throat and she let the bitterness free her from her anxieties. (Or perhaps that was the alcohol…) After a moment, she said, "My dad's in jail. He needs me to defend him in court."

Billy nearly choked on his third Jack (he didn't even ask for it either as Randy just slid another his way once his second was clean). "No fuckin' way."

"It's the truth."

Riggins was positively slack-jawed. "What'd your pop do now?"

"_Ah_, you know my dad. He gets these idea and it just backfires, you know?"

"But _jail_?" Billy emphasized. "That's huge. Even for Buddy."

She remembered seeing him in his cell. It was pretty over-the-top. Even for him. "My father ain't a saint. Anything to make a quick buck."

Billy's eyebrows closed in together as he set down his tumbler. "_Nah_, Lyla. Buddy hasn't been like that. He's all about his radio show now. He was really doin' well. Even BJ, he was doing better."

Buddy Jr. Lyla hadn't thought about her little brother. She wondered if he was involved in this. She wondered if he _wasn't_ involved in this. Which made her feel better? She couldn't help but blame both her father and her mother for this distance Lyla felt with her siblings. God only knows what has become of her little sister Tabby. Perhaps Lyla should call her. She must be in college now.

"Well somehow my dad is sitting in prison and my brother is M.I.A."

Billy held up his tumbler full of Jack Daniels. "I'll drink to that."

Lyla chuffed. "What, is Tim in jail too? I didn't see him there this morning."

That put a smile on Billy's face. "_Nah_, I think Tim's past all of that now, now that he's actually legal. He always was older than his age. In high school he had the mental age of a twenty-year-old, now he's in his twenties and he's become a recluse fifty-year-old."

An eyebrow on Lyla's face twitched upward. "Come again?"

"Tim's practically a shut-in these days."

Lyla couldn't even fathom. Well, maybe she could. The Tim she knew was so vibrant and full of life and love, but so tortured. Last she saw of him he was living in a trailer behind someone's house, so I guess it wasn't such a stretch. Still it pained her to hear it. "But he's ok, right?"

Billy shrugged. "I talk to him, sure, but he don't say much."

"Doesn't he work with you at the shop?"

"_Ha_!" Billy laughed as he took another swig of yet another glass of Jack. But it wasn't really a laugh. It was humorless. "Tim and I keep it strictly familial these days."

Sadness swept across Lyla's face. This was not something she wanted to hear. Everybody knows about the Riggins brothers. They don't have anybody but each other. No mother, and an absentee father. They have no family but each other as tumultuous as it's been. They both desperately need each other. Lyla was scared to think of what could have possibly driven a wrench between the two brothers that hadn't already sent them into a rift before. She didn't want to ask.

Lyla couldn't help but remember the last time she saw Tim. That sordid day when she came back for her friend Matt Saracen's father's funeral. Tim. The trailer. Them. Just them. It was a beautiful affair until it ended. She remembered the bus stop. The way his eyes held on to hers. How soft and sweet and sorrowful they were. The way they lovingly said goodbye. Really said goodbye. The kind you mean when it's for good. It was ages ago and it was hard to think about. She spent so much time since then trying to forget. Banishing him from her mind. Moving on.

"Enough about Tim," she said, slamming her third mug of beer on the counter. She shouldn't be drinking it, she knew. This was uncharacteristic. Kevin would surely disapprove. "How are _you_? How's the shop?"

Billy downed his fifth tumbler of Jack. Not that Lyla was keeping count. Perhaps, maybe. She'd been around the Riggins enough to know that five can, and usually does, lead to twelve. He looked incredibly somber all of a sudden. Lyla was sure it wasn't the alcohol. Five Jack Daniels wouldn't make either of the Riggins sloppy. Plus, Billy wasn't a somber drunk. He was more of a sloppy, happy drunk. But things can change in five years. Five years could turn anybody into anything. Lyla knew that most of all.

"You've been away for so long, Lyla. I don't even know where to begin."

Lyla's heart went out to him. She rested a friendly, compassionate, hand on his shoulder. "The beginning, perhaps?"

Billy gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

So he recounted everything from the past five years. He told her about the shop and Mindy and the kids. "_You married Mindy Collette_?" Lyla gasped. "_You were at the wedding!" _Billy replied. She felt terrible for forgetting. She didn't have a lot of contact with anyone from Dillon anymore. It was hard to keep track. Nonetheless, he told her about the wedding, little Steven, and even littler Kendra and Kaitlyn. He told her about the chop shop and the toll his grave mistake took on Tim. Billy spared no detail. He did have six glasses of Jack in him and it was compromising his emotions – not that he couldn't handle six Jack Daniels – but combined with all of the current stress, it was getting to him.

Billy rubbed his eyes before downing a seventh shot. "Mindy's fuckin' pregnant again. My shop isn't makin' enough money. Tim's practically a shut-in. Everything's falling apart," he admitted freely however much it pained him.

Lyla was now rubbing his back for comfort. "Goodness, Billy. I'm so sorry! Is there something I can do? I'll pay the tab today, you don't have to."

"I don't want your charity, Garrity," a drunken Billy barked. "Your money isn't good here. I got the tab."

"But Billy…"

"You're an old friend, Lyla. I got this one. I can still pay for my liquor."

Lyla frowned. Kevin says that when she frowns the sun retreats and stormy clouds fill the sky. She hated to frown, but this town seems to bring it out of her.

"What've you been up to Lyla? You've been grillin' me since I came through the door. Tell me where you've been, Garrity."

Lyla looked deep and hard into Billy's tortured eyes and couldn't stomach telling him about her life. It would be like rubbing salt in a festering wound. Billy was struggling, really truly struggling, and Lyla was prospering. She couldn't – she wouldn't rub that in his face.

"I've got a better idea, why don't we get you back home. Where does Mindy think you are right now?"

"The – The shop. I think." Billy sputtered, spittle flying out of his mouth.

"Billy Riggins, I do believe you are drunk."

He waved a drunken hand in disregard. "I haven't had hardly anythin'. Hell, I'm practically…" he hiccupped, "…parched."

"That's it," Lyla said. "I'm taking you home. It's only six o'clock and you're sloshed."

Billy drunkenly slapped his card on the table, clearly not in any condition or mood to fight her, thankfully. "Stop _tryina_ impress me with yer fancy words, Garrity."

Lyla smiled brightly at the tease. She was counting her lucky stars she wasn't as drunk as she probably should have been. She'll be completely sober in an hour, give or take. Billy wasn't going to be so lucky. With any luck, Mindy won't be completely manic.

Once the bill had been paid, Lyla managed to somehow get Billy to her car and into the back seat. "Please don't puke in here if you can help it," Lyla teased, but it flew right over Billy's nearly-unconscious head. _I have to get him home, and soon,_ she thought to herself. She braced herself for the confrontation with Mindy Collette – Mindy _Riggins –_ as the Collette sisters were not always very rational when Lyla was involved, or ever really.

They still lived in the old Riggins' house. Billy, passed out completely in Lyla's backseat, didn't even need to tell her so much, as she figured it out when she rolled passed and saw all of the kids' toy's littering the lawn. Lyla chuckled to herself. Such typical Riggins behavior.

She couldn't help but think of Kevin back in Austin. He would have a cow if he could see this neighborhood and Billy's house and his _lawn_. This was the very opposite of Kevin's life. He'd be positively horrified to see Lyla here, to know this is where she came from.

Lyla heard a noise from inside. Female. Screaming. Mindy.

"Hear that, Riggins? That's your wife wondering where you are, mister."

Billy was fast asleep with no chance of arousal. Lyla frowned. How was she going to get him out of the car? There was absolutely no chance Lyla could haul that much dead weight of a man Billy's stature. She looked back to the house. Two little blonde girls flew out the front door and started giggling about in the front yard. They must have been at least four or five years old. Kendra and Kaitlyn. A young brown-haired boy came out shortly after to chase them. Steven. Mindy followed shortly there after, her voice preceding her entrance. "_You kids better play nice, or so help me!"_ She was in a fluffy pink robe that ended just below her knees, and her hair was up in a messy high ponytail, but it was crooked and looked as if it'd been slept on. Lyla remembered she was pregnant. Mindy would be of no use to her cause either. Damn.

Mindy spotted the car and held her hand to her eyes, blocking out the sun's glare. "I'll be damned," she muttered. "Garrity?"

Lyla had gotten out of her car and made her way out to greet her acquaintance. She gave her a small wave. "Hey Mindy."

"Wow. I did not expect to see you ever again. Nobody in town thought we'd see such a hotshot back here."

Smalltalk, Lyla noted. She wasn't expecting a hug or a welcome cheer, or words for that matter.

"Yeah. Work'll do that to you," she replied.

"What brings you 'round here, cheerleader?"

Lyla couldn't help but resent the nickname. Her cheerleader days were long gone, yet still it still followed her around like a dark cloud. And at any rate, Mindy didn't say it to be nice. She held her tongue. No use picking fights with a Collette. She wasn't here to reconnect with old enemies.

"Well for starters, my dad is in jail."

Mindy wasn't even remotely phased. In fact, she barely even heard her. Steven had tripped one of the twins. "_Steve Riggins! If you do that one more time!_" She screamed in her shrill voice that made her sound akin to the cawing of a hawk.

"So your asshole father got thrown in jail finally," she said once she re-entered the conversation.

She couldn't blame Mindy for that attitude. Lyla certainly had her fair share of animosity towards her father. Mindy and Tyra's mother had an affair with Buddy and it built an even larger rift between Lyla and Tyra, Mindy included, and it lead Lyla's parents to divorce, splitting up the children amongst them.

"You know my father," was all she could say. It was opening a door better left closed, but still.

"You're damn right I do." Mindy stated surely. Lyla was sure she was desperate to see her off, wondering what the hell she was doing on her lawn.

"Secondly, I ran into Billy at the bar," Lyla said and it perked Mindy right up. "And now I can't get him out of my backseat."

"Jesus Christ," Mindy huffed, and Lyla wasn't sure if it was towards her or towards Billy. Mindy swung the back car door open, revealing Billy in a drunken stupor. (Lyla was secretly relieved to see he hadn't puked.) "God dammit Billy! Get your fat ass out of the car and back into the house, you drunken bastard! Nobody has time for your shit!"

Lyla couldn't help but grin, watching the Riggins. This was just so… so… them. It was just so Dillon. It made Lyla almost miss being here.

There was no immediate response from Billy. "God. Hold on, Lyla. I'll get him out of your car."

Mindy walked towards the house, chasing the kids back inside while she was at it. Lyla was left to survey the neighborhood. It simultaneously felt like everything has changed and yet not one thing had. Was this another case of Lyla changing while Dillon remained the same? Would she ever get used to this feeling?

Her voice, yet again, preceded Mindy out of the house. She was screaming bloody murder at her husband, and holding a squirt bottle. Lyla could sense this was not going to be pleasant for anybody.

"Get your ass up, you drunken idiot!" Mindy shrilled as she quickly squirt some clear liquid onto Billy's face. It smelled like vinegar and it revived him within seconds. He was still drunk and groggy, but he was conscious and mobile. "What kind of idiot gets drunk on a weekday in the afternoon!?"

Billy wasn't quite coherent but tried talking anyway. Mindy managed to get him up and supported him by draping one of his limp arms around her shoulders and holding onto his body as she lead him inside. "Thanks for bringing him home, Garrity." Mindy wailed as she sent them both inside and shut the door.

With nothing better to do, Lyla had decided to go back to the apartment and delve into some work. She told her dad she'd see him in the morning to go over the case details, so she may as well be prepared. The taste of beer was still on her tongue, so she impulsively bought a bottle of red wine at a nearby grocery store to accompany her this evening. Lord knows she was going to need a glass or two to get through today and several bottles to get through this case.

She settled down with her glass of Shiraz in the living room and spread out the case papers. For hours, she poured over the messy details. It was late before she realized she hadn't called anyone in Austin. Kevin wouldn't mind the late call, she insisted.

She couldn't help but notice how silent her phone had been all day. Not a single missed call, which was completely unusual. Surely her Austin friends would have at least sent a text. Surely _Kevin_ would have sent her several concerned texts.

Still, she dialed his number. And it rang for a while. _He was probably just getting home from work_, she reasoned, _or in bed._

"Hello?" A voice from the other end said groggily.

Lyla smiled to herself. Kevin's voice was like a warm ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. "Kevin," she cooed into the phone. "It's me. I thought I'd let you know I made it to Dillon in one piece."

"Lyla," he purred into the phone. "I was wondering when you were going to call."

"You could have called me, silly."

"I could have," His voice sounded breathy, like he usually does after he's been woken up, "but I didn't want to disturb you."

Lyla smiled. Kevin has this way of relaxing her that nobody else could. "I miss you."

"Of course you do," he teased, making her giggle, "because I miss you too."

"As you should," she teased back. "I'm sitting in my dad's apartment and it doesn't feel like home. I mean, all of the old stuff is here, but it's just not home. I feel like I don't really have a home anymore. It should be Dillon, but nothing here is quite like it used to be. It was Nashville for a while when I was at Vanderbilt. Now I'm in Austin, but I don't really feel like I fit in there either."

"Of course you fit in. You fit like a glove. Austin is perfect for you."

Another easy smile. "You're just saying that because you're in Austin."

"Of course."

She giggled.

"I miss you," she repeats.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't come down with you. You know how it is being a lawyer. So many cases, so little time." She knew. He was really tied up in a huge case that could significantly increase his reputation with the bar if he won. He would be the fastest rising associate the company has ever seen. Their good luck charm, as Kevin has yet to lose a single case. It's incredible really. They call him 'The Shark.' Lyla was really lucky to have him, because he could have anybody he wanted.

"I do. Break a leg, ok?"

"If I actually do break a leg, I'm suing you, ok?"

She laughed loudly into the phone, and she could hear Kevin's smile through the phone. This was their inside joke. One they'd say to bring some humor to their usual humorless lifestyle. "Call me sometime tomorrow, ok?"

"Anything for you, doll."

A brief pause as neither of them wished to get off the phone with the other. The physical distance was new for them both. They'd been together for a year now, but still it felt like it had passed too quickly. Perhaps it was due to their workload. Being a lawyer was a job that took precedence over every other aspect of your life, and the little time you can spare to anything else was cherished. That meant each other. Quick kisses during lunch hours, too-brief phone calls during the day, and even more brief text messages. Always on the go. The night was all theirs though and they made the most of it. So while distance during the day was nothing new, this physical distance, being this far apart was a brand new challenge to them both.

"Lyla," he whispered into the phone, and it made her ache for his arms. "get your father out of jail, ok? You can do this. I have faith in you."

There was no denying this was big for Lyla's career. She was still so brand new, and so young. _'The youngest member of Schulman & White for sure,'_ Kevin had said. She had yet to make a significant impression, and this was her chance. But it wouldn't be easy. Lyla knew her father. Some part of him was guilty; perhaps he was totally guilty. This was an uphill battle, and Lyla was not sure she wanted to fight it. Maybe her dad should be in jail.

"Thanks baby. I desperately needed that," she said. "I'll let you get some sleep. Lord knows the both of us could use it."

"Lyla, have a good night. I miss you terribly."

And with that, they both hung up. Lyla did not go to bed, though. She poured another glass of wine and studied the papers a bit longer before going to bed at midnight.


	2. Chapter 2

Lyla woke up in a funk. And far too early. She had hardly slept through the night. Secretly, she blamed the wine and the room. Unquestionably, she was sleeping in the wake of Buddy Jr.'s old room. There were telltale signs of his residency. An abandoned poster of a half-naked woman, for one, and a purple football jersey carelessly left on the floor in the corner, along with several other Panther knickknacks that could only be her brothers. Where was Buddy Jr. anyway?

It took her far too long to remember where she was in the first place. Lyla woke up in a sweat and into a momentary panic. She couldn't feel Kevin pressed up against her with his arms holding her, nor the smell of the coffeepot brewing like back at her home in Austin. The clock on her phone said it was 7am, which meant she barely got seven hours of sleep, when she was used to a full eight. _Funny how little things can affect a person_, she thought.

Despite the reassuring phone call from Kevin the night before, she could not stop thinking about Tim. She remembered when Buddy Jr.'s room was actually her room, and Tim Riggins spent a fair amount of time there himself. She could see a phantasm of him lingering in the hallway, leaning against the wall just as she entered the kitchen to make that coffee she so desperately needed. It was his eyes she could see most of all. It was the part of him she missed the most. They were permanently in a state of brooding, except with her. Lyla saw a side of Tim hardly anyone truly got to see. She saw the light within him, and that flame burned so bright for her.

That flame was extinguished, she knew from talking to Billy. Tim's brooding had gotten the best of him while she's been away, and that made Lyla terribly sad. Tim was so much more than his pain. He had so much potential and he continually chooses to squander it, and he was squandering it now.

And why was he distancing himself from his own brother? Yes, Billy told her about the chop shop. That was distressing to learn. Could Tim really hold on to resentment for so long? It's been years. He has nieces and nephews. Then it occurred to her. Perhaps something else was at play. Something Billy didn't tell her or didn't know.

Tim.

A quick chime from her phone snapped Lyla out of her reverie. Kevin. He sent a text. _Good Morning Sunshine._ Her lips formed a hollow smile. She missed him terribly, like there is a hollow space beside her now that he filled back in Austin. She felt it most at night. His side of the bed was as empty as a lock without it's key. Or perhaps that was her heart. Lyla had never been good with long distance relationships.

She realized right then that she didn't know anybody here anymore but for the Riggins and her father. Billy had told her about the Taylors and their move to Philadelphia. How much of a huge impact that held on her father who never quite got over Coach Taylor's departure from Dillon. She wondered about Saracen and Julie. They must have gotten married. Billy did say Julie was living up north in Chicago, and she knew Matty had been up there majoring in art. She knew what became of Smash. Everybody in Texas did. Last years draft was front-page news. Even in Austin, she couldn't go anywhere without hearing someone say how damn lucky it was of the Dallas Cowboys to nab him. _'Damn lucky,'_ they'd reiterate. She'd even heard Kevin talk about it. "_Texas must love that kid_," he'd said during the height of the news. "_We can't seem to let him go._"

Not that they had any kind of bond other than enmity, but she couldn't help but wonder about Tyra Collette. Lyla cursed herself for not asking Mindy during the small talk. It was largely Tyra who held onto the animosity in their relationship, not Lyla. She was always rooting for Tyra to become more than herself, and as far as she knew, she was. Tyra was always a force to be reckoned with, and the world should feel the impact of her hardship. Lyla had all the confidence of the world that whatever Tyra had put her mind to, she'd accomplish.

That left Jason. Did he really get married and have a child? Was there really a baby Street or two waddling about in the world? The image brought a smile to Lyla's face. She didn't have to worry about Jason. In a way, she never had to. (The Mexico fiasco was in everybody's rear view mirror.) Jason was still in her heart, but it was in a place of peace. Unlike Tim whom she constantly worried over.

Tim.

Lyla closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, slowly letting it exhale. She concentrated on the coffee. The aroma wafted into her face and brought her to a calm. She decided some yoga before visiting her dad would be a most excellent idea. Without Kevin, yoga, coffee, and red wine would be her calming vices while she was in town.

Dillon in the morning almost mirrored Austin, and Lyla was comforted by that. Everyone was in a rush to get someplace. School for several, work for everybody else. The hustle and bustle of town was something she never realized she missed. Nostalgia's funny that way sometimes. Never realize what you're missing until it's right in front of your nose.

Today Lyla had gone for darker colors, but stuck with the power suits. They gave her a strength that she needed for clients. She felt powerful in a clean blazer and matching slacks. She was Superman dressed like Clark Kent. The navy ensemble made her feel solid as a rock – like she could conquer the world one court case at a time – while yesterday's tan made her feel confident and feminine. She wore that when she needed to summon her empathy. She wore a stylish black boot with her navy ensemble and wished they were her old brown cowboy boots instead.

Today she'd meet with her father in the visitation room, which Lyla was grateful for. She couldn't bear another visitation where she saw him caged up like an abused circus animal. It was bad enough seeing him handcuffed on the way in. Did the system really need to be so degrading? Seeing Lyla brought out a light in Buddy and it shined like the full moon during the darkest night.

"Lyla," He called out with the purest of smiles. "Look at you. You're dressed for success."

Lyla kindly smirked. "But of course. I'm going to get you out of here."

Buddy brought his hands to his chest. "I'm so relieved to hear that. Truly I am."

"All right, dad. We need to get to business now."

"Oh Lyla, that can wait, can't it? I haven't seen you in years. What have you been up to? How is it in Austin?"

Lyla was put off. She came to work. Surely her father knew that. And what did he mean by 'it can wait?' He must know that it simply cannot. The faster they act, the faster he can get out of this place. "Dad, we can always catch up when you're out of here." She flipped open her father's file which she had brought up onto the table. "Let's start at the beginning."

"Sweetheart, must we get all into business? I haven't seen ya in five years, Lyla! You're mah daughter first and foremost, and I wanna know everything that you been up to in the big city. My trial ain't for awhile now, darlin'. The details, they're not as important as this long awaited reunion between a man and his beloved daughter. Tell me 'bout Austin, sweetheart. What's the firm like? Are ya datin' a fella?"

Lyla's cheeks burned with ire. Her father called upon her to be here to represent him and he doesn't want to talk about the case? Lyla couldn't put her finger on it, but somehow she felt belittled. _He'll never respect me as a lawyer,_ she couldn't help but think. _I'll always just be his little girl. He'll never see me as an adult – as a woman, no matter what I accomplish._ She felt silly all of a sudden, being here.

"This is a waste of my time." She softly spoke and began packing away the papers.

"Lyla, sweetheart, ya just got here. I've barely had a chance to even look upon your face. Stay, talk to your poor father."

Her temper had not quelled, but he was right about one thing. He was her father and she was his daughter. Buddy may have the right to disregard her as his lawyer, but she did have an outside duty to perform, and one that he was owed.

"Austin's great, Dad," she finally said once her nerves had more-or-less soothed. "I'm having the time of my life."

Her father's grin was unparalleled, and there was no substitute for the joy that comes with making your parents proud. It's just too bad her father didn't understand that the reciprocal – the joy of making your children proud of you – was just as important and powerful. "I'm so happy to hear that, darlin'."

"The firm is not exactly how I imagined it'd be, but I love it. It's a crazy world. I'm truly blessed to be apart of Schulman & White. I thank God everyday for everything He's provided me."

She could see her father wanted to put a proud hand on hers, but she wasn't sure if it was allowed. Being a lawyer has taught her a lot about prison policies, and touching was definitely a privilege someone like her father hadn't had the time to earn yet. The hurt on his face was apparent when she didn't acknowledge the action and allow it.

"I'm thankful to Him too, baby. He's done good lookin' out fer ya when I couldn't." His smile was pained but genuine. Lyla hated to hurt him despite everything. Regardless for how mad he made her, she knew that the distance she had set up was hurting him more than anything he'd ever done to hurt her. Lyla vowed to herself not to push him away from her life anymore. Once she got him out of here, she was going to call him everyday. Or at least once a week. Perhaps it will steer him away from anything shady.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said with perhaps her first honest smile.

"Spare no details, honey. Have ya made friends? Are ya seein' anybody? Be honest, now. I'm your father, I know, but I can take it. Are there grandbabies in my foreseeable future?"

Grandbabies. _Ack._

"Whoa, there. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, cowboy." She said, nervously pushing back a lock of hair behind her ear. "I am seeing a great guy though, Dad. You'd love him."

Buddy's face blossomed. "Are you now! Do tell, what's the lucky fella's name?"

Lyla smiled. "Kevin. Kevin Mussman."

"Mussman," he repeated to get a feel for the word. She couldn't tell if it rolled off his tongue nicely or not. "Mussman. Sounds like a sturdy name."

"He's a lawyer too," she added.

"I bet he's a fantastic one at that," her father said.

Lyla imagined him sitting between the two of them. He wouldn't have let her dad brush aside the case. Kevin would have been forceful or he would have walked away by now. They don't call him 'The Shark' for nothing.

"The best, Dad. Truly. He should be here representing you instead of me, really."

Buddy crunched his face in. "Nah, nah. Never you mind that. I'm sure he's got bigger fish to fry."

It had occurred to Lyla that Buddy was being evasive. Obviously so.

"Hey Dad?" He perked up. "Where's Buddy Jr.?"

His face barely moved. Perhaps that was why it looked like all the life drained out of him. "He's not at the apartment?" He asked after a beat.

"Nope."

Buddy allowed his eyes to wander the room, but the weren't really there. They were scouring Dillon. "Lyla, darlin', do me a favor, will ya? Call your mother." And with that, Buddy signaled the guard over with a nod of his head and a wave of a few fingers.

"Dad…"

"I'm so happy to see you darlin'. Come back again tomorrow, will ya?"

Before Lyla could make sense of what was happening, Buddy got up and was being restrained by a pair of guards and hauled off back into incarceration. Lyla left the facility feeling so much more confused than when she entered.

She didn't know what to do but sit in her car in the parking lot. The clock had barely passed noon and she felt like she could drink Billy under the floor. What was it about Dillon that drove her to the bottle? This place can be so toxic.

Lyla closed her eyes and imagined herself being pampered by the guys at the Dayside Spa in Austin. She never would have the notion to go to a day spa if it weren't for her Vanderbilt friends back in Tennessee. After a couple girls nights she found her self completely at the mercy of the local spa's availability. She could certainly use a massage by Paula, her favorite masseuse, right now. Daydreaming about it wasn't doing the trick this time, unfortunately, and it left Lyla restless.

Her phone chimed from it's spot on the passenger seat. Another text message. This time from a Vanderbilt friend. After responding appropriately and setting it back on the seat, she looked back at the iPhone. Innocently it sat there with its crisp black screen with white outline, and shrouded in armor with a floral design. Harmless really.

_Do me a favor, will ya? Call your mother._

This does not bode well for Lyla in any way. It's bad enough she lost contact with her father for five years, but she's lost contact with her mother for much longer than that. Lyla can't even remember the last time they spoke. It was shortly after she moved to California with Tabby and Buddy Jr. that their communication irreparably broke. Her mom had a new life out west that Lyla could not follow and thoughts of her mom regularly broke her heart.

Lyla didn't have to call her right away necessarily. This could be a gradual thing. Something to warm up to. What was she even calling about? Buddy Jr.? She wished she were closer with her brother. It was like they lived in separate worlds that just would not cross. She didn't even know if BJ had a phone, else she'd call him directly. Perhaps that's where she needed to start. Find her baby brother. As long as her father was evading her questions about the case, she was of no help to him and papers can only be studied so much. Her brother, relevant or not to the case, was still important to her.

Where to start?

The first thought that entered her mind was not her favorite one. She'd have to check with the school. Since the West Dillon and East Dillon merged teams, Buddy was allowed to transfer Buddy Jr. to West Dillon, which is precisely where Lyla would have to start first. Granted, it's been a few years since he graduated, but the high school records could at least tell her if he went to college or not. It burdened Lyla that she didn't even know.

Before that though, she'd need some lunch, and she knew just the place.

Ever since she first passed the Alamo Freeze, she had a hankering for a burger. She didn't expect to see anyone she knew there, of course. This was a high school hangout, and while the popularity has died, Lyla observed, it's still raucous with teenage glee.

She decided to eat at one of the empty booths. It reminded her of her cheerleader days. Matt Saracen behind the counter, Tyra and Tim being wildly inappropriate several booths back while Smash let his ego get a bit carried away not to far away. She and Jason and her old cheerleader friends would be further up. Tim would hear Smash's narcissism and get pissed off. Julie, Landry, and her friends would be outside gossiping. Old times. How they fly by when you're not looking.

"You're Lyla Garrity, right? Tim Riggins' friend?"

Lyla wasn't expecting any company, so she was surprised to look up into the eyes of a young girl she faintly recognized. She was real pretty with cinnamon hair and curls that just would not quit. Still a girl, she did seem to be older than the high school students who were laughing about. If only Lyla could remember.

"You don't remember me, do you," said the girl who slid her tray on the opposite end of the booth and took a seat. The girl was bubbly for sure with a smile hanging on the edge of her lips. Lyla felt like she should remember her because she seemed like a sweetheart.

She apologized. "I'm so sorry. You look vaguely familiar somehow."

"Don't be silly. Tim Riggins used to live in the trailer behind my house. You visited him for a couple of days."

The memory was clearing up. "I remember!" Lyla said. Looking upon the girl in front of her and the fuzzy one in her memory, she seemed to have retained her beauty and youthfulness but grew into a maturity she lacked before. She was truly a girl then. Sitting before her was freshly minted woman. But what was her name?

She threw out a hand before Lyla could fully recall it. "Becky," the girl answered for her, "Becky Sproles… no. Sorry, Cafferty. Becky Cafferty. Not used to being married yet." Lyla spotted the ring displayed on her left ring finger.

"Becky. Right. I remember you now. I'm sorry for the memory lag."

"Don't be! Don't be!" Becky waved it off like it was nothing. "Don't matter one bit. I just saw you here eating by yourself and I thought I'd come join you as I'm by myself too." Lyla kindly smiled at the girl. "And to be honest, you looked like you could use a friend. Or at least a friendly face."

"Thank you, Becky. Truly." And Lyla meant it. Perhaps that's what was wrong this whole time. Lyla needed a friend. Becky's permanent, sunny grin would do for right now.

"To tell you the truth," Lyla began, "You seem so much different from when I met you so long ago."

A pleasant but shy smile blossomed on Becky's ever cheerful face. "I guess you can thank Tim for that. I owe him most everything. He's been like a brother to me. No, not _like_ a brother. He has been one. Ever since I met him."

Tim.

It was almost like he was haunting her. Following her everywhere she went. Didn't Billy say he was practically a shut-in?

Becky's smile turned more inward as she continued, "And Luke. Bless his heart. Luke's done his fair share for sure. He deserves a lot of the credit."

"Where is this Luke of yours?"

Her smile waned slightly. "Overseas."

Lyla suddenly understood. "You got yourself a military man! That's great!" She said even if she couldn't really meet Becky half way. It's not that Lyla was unpatriotic or nothing, but she would make a terrible military wife. She wouldn't be able to stand the waiting. Lyla's heart poured for this girl. She was braver than Lyla could be.

"Yeah," Becky said. "I'm an Army wife."

_So brave_, Lyla thought. _Both of them._

"Congratulations, Becky. Was it recent?"

Becky shined like a new penny. "A month ago actually! Luke was back on leave, and it was a bit of a whirlwind. My mom was furious and his parents were livid, but I have no regrets. I love him. They came around in the end."

Lyla couldn't help but watch her. Becky was like a beautiful little bird who sang so sweetly.

"Enough about me. What are you doing back in town?"

Lyla recanted the entire saga with her father as well as her run-in with Billy and Mindy.

"Billy and Mindy!" She enthused. "Aren't they just great? They're like family to me. They're my second family. Did Billy tell you how he raised so much money for my wedding? No, he probably didn't. He's just so great. He and Min took me in when I had absolutely nowhere to go. I owe everything to the Riggins."

Lyla too remembered a time when sought sanctuary at the Riggins during the fiasco with her father. The bankruptcy. That was such a sour time in her life, and life with the Riggins wasn't… ideal. But it meant everything to Lyla. It still did.

"I know they follow a moral grey code when it comes to the law, but they really are good people. They'll bend over backwards for the ones they love."

She was sure Becky could see the truth behind her eyes, so Lyla made sure to focus on her fries for a spell.

"You haven't gone to see Tim," was Becky's response. It was somewhat unexpected. "Have you?"

Lyla didn't want to talk about Tim anymore. Or the Riggins. Becky could sense it. She gazed upon Lyla with interrogation. It was as if her eyes held a secret that Lyla wasn't privy to.

She might have worn a ponytail, but she shook the loose strands of hair away from her face and plastered on a standard smile. "So, let's see that ring of yours."

Becky was all too willing to oblige. "Ain't it something?"

It wasn't a stunner, much less a dazzler. Just a simple gold band with an inset diamond. Both have long lost their luster. Lyla probably could find someone in Austin who could bring out it's shine.

"I still can't believe it's mine now," Becky gushed.

"Let me guess… it's a family heirloom?"

Becky grinned from ear to ear, even wider than she had been all of lunch, and it radiated like the hot summer sun. "It's that obvious? Luke said it'd been in his family as long as anyone can remember. There's a family myth that it came overseas from Ireland during the famine! I don't believe it though because there isn't a single Irish mark on it. But can you just imagine it? Think of all the things this ring has been through. Everything that it's seen." Becky paused to admire it for a moment. "Makes me excited about all the things it's going to see with me and Luke."

And in that moment, Lyla fell in love with the girl. She understood exactly why Tim would take her under his wing. He must've seen this beautiful little dove with a broken wing. Lyla would have taken her in herself under the same circumstances. The Riggins have been good for her and for that Lyla burst with pride.

Their plates were looking mighty clean, Lyla noticed.

"Becky?"

She perked up excitedly. "Yes?"

Lyla regarded her for a beat and smiled. Perhaps Becky needed an older sister as much as she needed two older brothers. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

Becky had jumped at the chance of being a detective's assistant (that's what she said it felt like, anyway). Lucky for Lyla, she didn't have a single thing planned for the rest of the day. Night was a different story, though. Becky was working as a waitress at the Landing Strip most nights. (She, of course, had to mention how Tim defended her honor but it cost her the job several years back and Mindy was the one who vouched for her and got her job back. How many stories of Tim did everybody in Dillon have?) She assured Lyla that it was just a job until Becky could afford to attend Community College and get a degree as an administrative assistant. Lyla could see Becky working as her personal assistant back in Austin – or Kevin's. He needed an assistant more than she did. Becky would be a ray of sunshine in a usually droll environment. Lyla made a mental note of that. "I'm not that far away from achieving my goal either," Becky had said.

Their first stop was Dillon High School where Lyla had hoped to find out about her brother's whereabouts. Becky was thrilled about crossing into new territory.

"I've never been in West Dillon before. So much purple! It's so strange how similar it is to East Dillon but entirely different."

Lyla let her have her enthusiasm. It helped her lose her nerves. Why she had them, she couldn't answer. She didn't know anyone here apart from a few old teachers who stopped to gush over her in passing.

"Look at those lockers! They're so nice! East Dillon could use some nice lockers." Becky commented.

Lyla guided the two of them to the administration offices. It was strange walking in and not seeing Mrs. Taylor. She and Coach Taylor seemed like such an integral part of the school.

"Hi," Lyla sweetly greeted the secretary. "My name is Lyla Garrity – This is my friend, Becky Cafferty – and we were wondering if you could find some information on a past student for us."

"Depends on the information, of course," the lady kindly replied. "What can I find for you ladies?"

"Well, it's my brother, Buddy Jr. He graduated a couple of years ago. The honest truth is, we're looking to see if you have his current address. We lost touch a long time ago and our father has been arrested and I cannot find my brother anywhere. I just wondered what you have on his whereabouts after he graduated."

The lady smiled politely. "I'll have to talk to the principal, but I'll see what I can do for you. Please take a seat."

And so they did. Patiently.

Becky, again, admired everything. "Wow. This place is so _nice_."

Lyla gave her a curious look when she wasn't looking. What was so nice about a high school? It was just a school.

"This is where you and Tim went to school, huh." She asked.

"This is the place," Lyla said uncomfortably.

"What was it like going to school with Tim?" Becky asked curiously, completely unaware of the button she was pushing.

Lyla remembered both good and bad times. Flashes of Jason, Tim, and her filled her mind first, followed by the affair and the betrayal. The website, and the slut shaming that she never fully recovered from. No friends and the good grades. The divorce. God and the radio gig. The year of Tim and the bankruptcy. Living with Tim. Leaving Tim.

"It was a rollercoaster ride. You know Tim."

For once, Becky didn't respond. She was positively mum. It's not that Lyla was exactly expecting a reaction, per say, but she definitely was not expecting a lack of one. This silence was awfully quiet.

"It was like that for me and Luke," Becky replied, only it sounded like a segue. She was clicking the heels of her cowboy boots and they made an anxious clack. "Like riding a rollercoaster. That's exactly it."

Lyla thought of Kevin. Life with Kevin wasn't stale or nothing, but she would never describe it as a 'rollercoaster ride.' Sure being a lawyer and loving a lawyer in a big city meant riding life in the fast lane, but not crazy. Things with Kevin were… organized.

Wake up next to each other. Drink coffee and read the paper. Take a shower together and get dressed to go to work. Kiss before leaving. Work. And work. Perhaps a text if it's been a bad day. Work and work. Either eat lunch together or eat lunch with a client. Kevin was the one with the clients, so Lyla half of the time ate with a colleague. Work and work. Send a loving text. Work. Receive text that Kevin would be late for dinner and will forage for himself. Exchange of I love you texts. Eat dinner in front of a TV program. Work a little at home. And work a little more. Greet Kevin with a kiss. Share a pint of ice cream and chat about that day's work. Kiss. And kiss a little more. Express how much they missed each other. Take things into the bedroom. Let it escalate or go to bed. Be woken up by Kevin rustling work documents whilst in bed. Manipulate Kevin into cuddling and falling asleep.

It was habitual. Predictable. Stable. Safe.

Lyla was so deep in thought that she nearly missed seeing Dillon High's art instructor.

"Matty?"

He looks good. Real good. Last she saw him was at his father's funeral and through the grapevine she'd heard bits and pieces about him and Julie Taylor playing house in Chicago, where she thought they still were. They were never especially close, but they had many friends in common, which made them, in turn, friends. Lyla couldn't help remembering the broken boy she'd last seen that grim day during one of her last visits to Dillon. That boy was still there, but he'd grown into a man now.

"Lyla… uh… hey." He stammered out a greeting as only Matt would.

Lyla being Lyla, opened her arms out for a hug. Matt obeyed but Becky noted how uneasy he looked and how awkward it was for him to hug her back.

"How are you?" Lyla happily asked during their hug.

Matt pulled back first. "Uh… I'm good. Really good, actually," he answered with a little smirk.

Lyla was so pleased. A familiar face, and one with good memories attached to it, if not many. "I'm so glad to hear that, Matty." She remembered Becky. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Matt this is Becky Cafferty; she's my friend. Becky, this is Matt Saracen."

Becky knew the name. "Former Panther quarterback, Matt Saracen," she said as she shook his hand.

"Wow, that was… uh… that was a long time ago." He nervously commented. "I haven't been a panther in, um, a long time. Now I'm just the Art teacher."

Lyla gasped. "You work here?" She asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Matt said. Becky noted how he keeps himself inward a lot. He must be shy. "Yeah, they, uh, call me the Wolf."

Lyla's eyes widened. "The what?!" She guessed she could see it. He still had the demeanor of his high school days, and he was cute. He always had been cute. But a _wolf_? Perhaps if she, herself, were a teenager, he would be.

Matt explained. "Oh, uh, because rumor has it I'm, uh, a really strict grader. I'm the proverbial, uh, wolf in sheep's clothing. They think I'm nice and lax, but then I grade harsh. Kids, you know?"

Lyla could see that. "Don't they know you are nice? You're probably the nicest person I've ever met."

Saracen smiled at the compliment, inwardly again. "Oh, um, thanks. Julie seems to think so too."

She cocked her head. "Julie?"

"My wife." He explained. "Julie Taylor? She goes by Saracen now."

Lyla was just overjoyed. "Congratulations! How long have you been married?"

"Um… about three or four years now." Matt answered. "She's about five months pregnant now. We think it's a boy."

"Oh my goodness! Matty! I can't believe you're a father! That's incredible. Really."

"Congratulations," Becky added.

"Yeah. Thanks you guys. Um, what brings you here, Lyla? I thought you were in Austin or something."

Again, Lyla explained her imprisoned father, her missing brother, and the ignored case. Matt was very polite and listened courteously, not having much to contribute.

"Ain't that a reason to come back," Matt said.

Lyla smirked. "Sure is."

"Yeah, once I got my degree, I came back to be with grandma."

"Oh! How is she, Matty? Is she still going strong?"

Matt looked at her kindly but with sad eyes. "She's still strong and healthy but," He paused trying not to let the words get to him, "but she's not rememberin' much. She remembers me most days, but she forgets Julie all the time. Still think's dad's alive. Sometimes," another pause, "sometimes she keeps tryin' to leave to go to her waitressing job that she had about thirty years ago. Doctors aren't sayin' much of anythin'."

Neither girls knew quite what to say. "I'm so sorry, Matty," Lyla said after a pause. "Give her all my love, ok? I'll pray for her. She's a wonderful woman."

"Yeah," Matt said shyly. "She's the best."

Lyla smiled kindy.

"So you're not here to see Riggins?" Matt asked.

She couldn't believe it. What is it with everybody and their obsession with Tim Riggins? Why did her presence equate to seeing Tim? Lyla has a family here too. She and Tim had parted ways a long time ago and that was it.

Becky interjected, "No. She hasn't seen him."

"How long you been in town, Lyla?"

"A day," she meekly responded.

Matt went back to being shy. "Oh. Uh, sorry. I just… I thought… Nevermind. I have to get back anyway. Class and all."

"Right!" Lyla said. "It was so good to see you again Matty. Give my best to Julie and the baby."

Matt smiled kindly at the mention of his wife and unborn child. "You bet. Good seeing you Lyla. Hope you get your dad out of jail. Let me know if you need anything."


	3. Chapter 3

Becky offered to drive Lyla after the secretary informed her that her brother's last known address was her father's apartment, which Lyla knew to be untrue. "Trust me," Becky insisted, recognizing the look of fear mixed with resentment and anger on Lyla's face as she decided to call her mother. "Besides, I want to show you something." Lyla's hesitation had nothing to do with trusting Becky, and everything to do with losing her only excuse not to call her mother. So as the two girls exited the high school and walked to the car, Lyla reluctantly handed over the keys.

Lyla hadn't found the courage to dial her mother until they had drove onto the highway. Every ring of the phone filled Lyla with even more dread than the last.

"Hello?" answered a woman on the other end. The voice struck a cord within Lyla. She hadn't heard her mothers voice in so long, she'd almost forgotten it. She felt absolutely terrible about it.

"Mom?" she whispered into the phone.

"Who is this?" The woman asked. "Tabby, is that you? I told you already that Kevin and I would not be sending you any more money. You need to get a job, sweetheart."

Lyla felt less bad and more mad. It's one thing for a daughter to forget the sound of her mother's voice, but it's an entirely different thing for a mother to forget her own daughter. What kind of mother does that?

"No, Mom. It's Lyla." She said matter-of-factly.

"Lyla!" Her mom exclaimed into the telephone. "I'm so glad to hear from you! How are you, sweetie?"

"Fine," she blurted. Lyla was so put off she couldn't find any excitement to match her mothers. "I'm calling because Dad's been arrested and he told me to call you about Buddy Jr."

Her mom paused. "Buddy Jr's here."

"I thought he was in Texas. Why is he there?"

"He's here because he attends UCLA," her mom answered, "And because your father put him through hell back in Texas."

Lyla was angry. Not only because she didn't ask about her dad, she insults him! Was she not worried about her ex-husband? _At all?_ Perhaps she never worried about Lyla either.

"Why don't I ask Buddy Jr. about that," she spit out.

"Ok, honey. I wish we could catch up a bit first."

"I don't have time, Mom. I'm trying to get my father out of prison and figure out what my brother is up to and if he can help me. Maybe if you picked up the phone once in seven years, we could catch up, but now is not the time. Can I please just talk to my brother now?"

Her mother paused. It was evident Lyla had struck a nerve. "I've tried to get ahold of you, you know. I wanted you to live with me, Tabby, and Kevin. Truly Lyla."

"Mom. I have a deadline here. Dad is in prison."

"How is he?"

"He's ok considering everything."

"He's a fox, your father. A shark, even."

"I'd say a weasel."

Her mom said nothing. Then she said, "I'll give you to Buddy Jr. He just walked in." Just before giving up the phone, her mother said, "Lyla, I'm… I'm really sorry I cause you grief. I'm sorry your father and I both cause you grief."

"Me too," Lyla whispered.

Buddy Jr. was suddenly on the line. "Sis! How's Tennessee?"

She rolled her eyes. "BJ, I'm in Texas now. I graduated a year ago."

"Right! You in Dillon?"

"Right now I am. Why aren't you here? Dad's in jail. He needs you."

"I go to school here, Sis. UCLA. I'm in a frat and everything. Why's dad in jail?"

"I think you know why Dad's in jail."

"Did he rip someone off? God knows with Dad. He's morally flexible."

"Buddy, he's in jail for money laundering. Do you know anything about that?"

"God, that sounds like something Dad would do. Where's the income from? Oh God. Is Dad like, Walter White or something? Is Dad in a drug ring? Fuck!"

"BJ, please. I really don't think Dad's in a drug ring. He's not talking to me about anything and when I mention you, he goes stiff. You must know something. He told me to call mom about you."

"I really don't know anything, Lyla. Maybe Dad's leading you down a rabbit hole. You know, Mom's been really missing you hard. I think she's even called Dad to try to talk to you or something. Maybe Dad just wanted to you talk to Mom. And you said Dad isn't telling you anything about this case… so…"

Lyla was at a loss. She didn't know who to be mad at anymore. Was she mad at her mom or her dad? She regretted all of this. Coming back to Dillon. Trying to defend her helpless dad. Bringing her mom and all that drama back into her life with one little phone call. All of it.

"Ok, Buddy. Fine. But if you remember anything, and I mean anything, call me, ok? This number."

"Will do, Sis. Miss you."

When Lyla clicked end, she looked up and found herself someplace she'd never been before. Hardly a thing around for miles, Becky had driven them to the edge of town, possibly outside of it, with rolling hills of grass and scattered trees. This was as native and rural as Texas can get. It was beautiful. There was nothing around for miles, but for a wooden house not too far away.

"Becky, where are we?"

Becky had a strange look on her beautiful face. Sullen with such a polite smile. She twisted the keys and turned off the car. They sat there in silence for a moment before Becky took a deep breath and explained.

"That's his house," she began, and before Lyla could ask who, she clarified, "Tim's.

"He bought the land and built the house with Billy about five years ago. He's barely left since Tyra left him."

A flurry of feelings rushed through Lyla but she could not speak a word. There were no words for her conflicted emotions. And yet, so many questions plagued her.

Becky went on. "He's been different since he got out of prison. You knew about that right? How he sacrificed a year of his life in jail for Billy? He hasn't been the same since. Not a one of us knows exactly what happened on the inside, but something did. Something… broke within him. No one's been able to heal him right. We all thought Tyra might do it. She was with him while she went to college, and that worked out for them just fine until she graduated and came to live with him."

"What happened?" Lyla asked, so full of curiosity. "If you don't mind my asking."

Becky shook her head. "My own personal opinion is that they dragged each other down. You forget, he lived behind my house when you and him had that little fling way back when. I saw how he was with you. I'll admit that I was insanely jealous of you because I was flirting with Tim Riggins every chance I got, but even then I knew. I was so threatened by you and for good measure, because you and him… you bring out the best in him. I've never seen Tim Riggins the way he was when you were there. Not ever. Not with nobody.

"Tyra… she's a pistol. Just as Tim's like my big brother, Tyra's like my big sister, and I love her so much. She has so much drive and determination to make something of herself. She makes you want to be bigger and better. But her weakness is Tim," Becky nodded towards the wooden house, "and together they're toxic. He's so broken and inward now and his weaknesses become her weaknesses. Tyra loves him so much, but there came a point when she realized he was what was bringing her down. She has so much potential and will to do something huge – last I heard, she wanted to go into politics, perhaps run for an office or something – but Tim Riggins would be her downfall. She said she was running as far away from the trashy trailer park lifestyle that has plagued her family, and staying with Tim would keep her there. Tim stays in his house drinking whiskey from sun up to sun down and does little else in between. I think Tyra was right. I think he was bringing her down."

Lyla didn't know what to make of her feelings. She was downright worried about Tim. She was pleased for Tyra. Maybe even, relieved they aren't together? Funny how old feelings linger under the surface after all this time. Her heart ached for Tim.

Becky looked at her, right in the eyes. "I think there's only one person who has a chance at healing him, and I think that's you."

Lyla hadn't said anything for a while and she knew it. The words wouldn't come. She couldn't sort out her own feelings quick enough to formulate a response despite having so many. It was like her jaw was locked shut.

Lyla didn't realize how tense Becky was until she collapsed and relaxed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here. I just thought you'd want to see him. You may not say it, but I know you care about him a lot. We don't have to go inside. I'll take us back into town."

It took Lyla a moment to find her words – enough time for Becky to turn on the ignition – but once she did she said, "I'm… I'm so speechless right now, about everything, but please, Becky, don't feel bad about bringing me here. I'm really glad you did."

Both girls grinned at each other before Becky hit the gas and the car rolled forward.

Lyla took a good look at the house on the hill as they passed, and could've sworn she saw Tim walk out the front door and watch them drive away.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dad, no fooling around today. We are going to talk about the case, and if you can't do that then I'll have discontinue my services as your lawyer."

"Lyla, ain't it a bit early for work talk? How about a hello for your dear old dad, huh?"

"Hi, Dad. How are you, Dad? Where did this dirty money come from, Dad?"

"Hello, sweetheart, you are looking just lovely today. I love your dress. All navy with a little white and lemon yellow. My, do you look like a real working girl."

"Dad, please. This is exactly what you said last time I stopped by. Is this '_Groundhog Day_?' Am I rerunning the same day over and over again?"

"Did I tell you that last time? Pardon me for that, but you're simply ravishing everyday, my darling daughter."

Lyla was not even remotely amused. "Dad. I am done with this. We need to get down to business. I'm not bluffing, I will resign as your lawyer."

"I don't doubt you are, but you are also my daughter, and I would like to speak to her first before we talk shop."

"No! Dad! We have to talk about this! Where did the money come from? Were you gambling? Was this gambling money? Is that why you laundered it through the casino? Let me be your lawyer, Dad. I can't help you if you won't help me. Please. Tell me where the money came from."

For once, her father had nothing to say.

"I called Mom. Why couldn't you tell me that Buddy Jr. is going to UCLA? Why the cat-and-mouse game?"

Buddy hesitated. Like, actual hesitation. Lyla observed the sweat building up on his brow. Odd. It wasn't exactly sweltering today. In fact, Lyla was a bit cold from the AC. Damn it.

"Lyla, hear me out, darlin'. I'm sure you're a fine lawyer, and I'm lucky as all get out to have snatched you up for your first case, sweetheart, but…"

Oh no.

"Oh God! Dad! You're firing me?"

"No, no, no, no. Sweetheart, that's not what I said."

"Oh my God! You're incorrigible! You know that? You wanna know what Mom said? She called you a shark. A shark, Dad! But you want to know what I said?"

"Lyla, sweetheart... please…"

"I said you were a weasel. I think I was right."

Buddy looked positively nauseous. His face was damp as a leaf after the morning dew, but red as a cherry tomato. Pained, it fell into his hands, completely dejected. "Lyla, you are mah most favorite child. I know that's an absolutely horrible thing t'say as a parent, but you are. I missed most of Tabby and Buddy Jr.'s childhood, but you, my precious, precious dear, you grew into a fine young woman and I am the most privileged father in the entire world to have a hand at that."

Lyla kept her demeanor stone cold. "Skip to the part where you admit you're a horrible human being and explain why you fired your favorite daughter from her very first opportunity to make something of herself as a lawyer."

He looked like he was drowning. "Lyla, when ya left for Tennessee, ya left me. You left Dillon. There's no place for me in your life and I thought I was willing t'sacrifice that for your betterment. But I am… I am a father, Lyla, and that doesn't sever. You are my child and I love you and our bond does not end just because you go off gallivanting into unchartered waters. And then this happened, this unfortunate tragedy of my incarceration. I didn't know how to…"

"Didn't know what, Dad? How to stay out of trouble?"

"Geez, Lyla, I know I haven't been the best father…"

Lyla's entire being just writhed. "Would you care for me to list out all of the ways you have been a terrible father? Current termination included?"

"I thought that if I just wrote you a letter asking you to come down here for my trial, you wouldn't come, alright? You're a big city gal now. I'm just a thorn in your side…" she opened her mouth to interject, but Buddy continued, "…and I know it, Lyla. I have caused you nothing but trouble for years now, and I'm big enough to admit it. Why would you come down to be with me when you could be saving the city of Austin from criminals or whatnot? So… I thought maybe if I asked you to represent me…"

Lyla began to shake her head. Soft at first, but quickly became a violent action. "Nope! No. I'm, I can't do this, Dad. I can't… not today. Please just tell me you have a lawyer that you _haven't_ strung along this entire time?"

"Yeah, I got…"

"Nope! Don't want to hear it. Glad you've got adequate representation, Dad. If you don't see me tomorrow, I've probably driven back to Austin. This has been a _gigantic_ waste of my time. You're right, Dad. I could be in Austin right now with Kevin, doing _actual_ work, not playing cat-and-mouse. There are people out there who need my representation. You… You're such a…" Lyla couldn't finish her sentence, instead just angrily began gathering her things.

"Lyla, darlin', please stay… let me explain…"

Lyla violently turned to face him. "Explain what, exactly? I can't even look at you right now!"

"Sweetheart, just take a deep breath. Calm down. The guards are starting to notice us. We don't want 'em thinkin' you're a problem, now. Just go back to the house and relax, darlin'. Put away the papers. Just do what you need to do to relax. Please, just don't leave Dillon. I really… I really need you by my side."

Lyla was fuming and not thinking straight but she liked the idea of leaving. "Fine. I'll go and relax. I can't stay here another second anyway. Bye, Dad."

And with that Lyla got up and departed without looking back to see her father escorted back down the hall, which would eventually lead him to his cell.

Lyla was on the brink of tears once she entered her car and slammed the door shut. She thought her father couldn't get to her anymore than he already had throughout the entirety of her life, but this was just the last straw. She could use a mani-pedi. A massage. A friend.

What might have been the most crushing thing of all was the lack of communication from Kevin. He hadn't called her at all the night before except for one brief phone call around 9:30pm when Lyla was in the shower. She tried to call him back once she got out of the shower, but he didn't answer.

Reaching into her pocket, she found her phone and clicked it awake. There was a text from her co-worker in Austin about something mundane, and another text from a Vanderbilt friend announcing she'd gotten hired at a firm in Nashville. But not a word from Kevin. Not one text message. It was nearly noon for crying out loud. He couldn't be bothered to even send her a 'Good Morning' text before going out and being Clark Kent? What was going on with him anyway? He was acting so strange. Everybody has been.

Lyla suddenly felt so utterly alone for, perhaps, the first time in her life. Everyone in Austin was living life without her, Vanderbilt felt like a lifetime ago, and all of those memories distant. She never did quite feel at home in Tennessee. She used to feel at home in Dillon, but everything has radically changed. There's two high schools. Little Matty's married to little Julie. Everybody is gone. Jason, even Tyra's gone. Now she lost her only real ties to Dillon. Her mother had abandoned Texas for California years ago and now she's all but destroyed that bridge, and she's practically in the middle of burning the bridge with her father.

Where was God?

That was one thing Lyla had never given up on. She may have grown a bit lax on her sins and whatnot, but her faith in the Lord had prospered. He had always watched out for her through all of her troubles. Even this one, no matter how lonely she felt.

A couple of tears fell down her cheeks. She couldn't hold them in anymore. Lyla closed her eyes, took several deep breaths – some of which turned into sobs – and tried her absolute best to calm down and call upon the Lord to ease her. Somehow she felt so alone. She didn't dare even think that the Lord had left her, because that was not true at all, but…

She couldn't feel Him. She had always felt Him, but right then, in her moment of need, when her life was seemingly in complete shambles, His presence was gone.

"Oh God!" She cried aloud. "Come back to me! Please! I need you!"

And without any warning at all, her mind turned to Tim Riggins.

She remembered Becky's words, even if some of them were unbelievable. _Tim was better around her_. Sure. And pigs grew wings and started flying. She remembered seeing that sliver of him coming out of his front door and watching them drive away. Lyla didn't see him all that clearly, but she didn't have to see him that clearly to know what he looked like. He looked so much like himself, like no time had passed at all, and yet he looked older and pained. All that, she caught from just a brief passing moment.

She wondered what he did after that. Did Tim know it was her car, or did he think it was just Becky? She was his surrogate sister after all. Perhaps he didn't know the car at all, and that's why he watched them speed away. Maybe everyone's right about him. Lyla didn't want to believe any of it. It clashed with the fun Tim Riggins she dated in high school. Tim wasn't generally sullen. He was a relatively happy person. He had a million reasons to be mean and sour, but despite what anyone says about him, Tim Riggins was a happy, good person. He's just willing to do what needs to be done for the people he loves even if that means making a million mistakes and going to jail for a year for a beloved brother.

She couldn't remember driving back to her father's apartment, but that's where she found herself nonetheless. Her hands brushed against the cotton fabric of her navy dress. Her father was right, this was a lovely dress. Lyla had to get out of it. Immediately. She didn't feel lovely. Aggressively, she threw the dress up over her head and onto the bed. Rustling through her clothes, she put on a white tank top and an old pair of jeans. She let her hair down and the long brown locks flowed down her back and over her shoulder. Lyla looked in the mirror and realized she hadn't seen this person since she was last in Dillon. Somehow, she felt more like herself in this ensemble than she had felt in any of the clothes she's worn in the past five years.

Lyla grabbed her phone and held it up to her ear. "Hey Becky! It's Lyla. Yeah, I went to see him this morning. It didn't go well. I don't really want to talk about it. I actually called because I need a favor. Can you give me some directions?"

Once again, Lyla found herself in her car, kicking up red dirt as she drove forward. She didn't exactly know what she was doing… and that made the trip all the more exhilarating.

Her phone laid on the passenger seat silent as the grave. Lyla had called Kevin twice and texted him three times prior to leaving the apartment, needing to hear his voice and words of reason. As she had assumed, he hadn't responded or answered the phone. The phone stared up at her now, almost mocking her for what she was doing. Like it knew that at any moment Kevin would call her and this spell she was under would end.

The wooden house in the middle of nowhere rose up on the horizon and the phone remained still. All of her feelings just rushed up and punched her right in the gut – or was it her heart? It was racing like mad. Lyla could feel it pounding in her chest, as if it was trying to break free. She needed a drink. A hard one. Not beer. Perhaps vodka. Liquid courage, that's what she needed.

Lyla turned from the highway onto the dirt road on the property. What on earth was she doing anyway? What was she going to say to him? Why was she even here? Her mind was racing and her heart pacing and she worried that if she left the car she'd faint. She hadn't felt like this since… since…

She pushed the brake and the car slowed to a stop not far from the house. As soon as it did, a man, five or six years older than she'd last seen him, came out of the house. Tim hadn't changed much. His brown hair still hung down to his chin and his plaid flannel shirt was still mostly unbuttoned. His jeans had at least five holes and his brown cowboy boots were filthy with dirt.

Something about his face was different, though. Even Lyla could see it. His face was worn and weary. It was almost like he'd given up on life, or something. Maybe not that, but he'd given up almost everything else and it showed in every crease of his face. Despite all of that, he was still as handsome as ever. That face could charm the pants off of Lyla. It had, many, many times before.

"What are you doing here?" Tim grunted from the porch.

_It's all true_, Lyla thought, _everything everyone has said_. She maneuvered out of the car. "Hello to you too."

"Hi," a humorless Tim retorted. "How did you find me? Why are you here?"

"It's good to see you too, Tim. You look like hell," Lyla said with humorous smile.

Tim sighed of frustration. The sun was in his face and he squinted his eyes. "Was that you parked out here yesterday?"

Lyla started walking up towards him. "Yes."

"Someone brought you out here, didn't they," Tim guessed.

"Yes." Lyla had sauntered to the base of the porch. Her cowboy boots kicked up enough dirt to match Tim's boots. "Becky."

"Becky? How do you even know Becky?"

Lyla forced a smile. He was in rough shape. It pained her to see him like this. "Last time I saw you, you were living on her property."

Recognition struck him like a lightning bolt. "Oh. Right."

"Last time I saw you, you weren't so hostile."

Tim was unfazed. "Things change, Lyla."

They both stood there in awkward, and yet, natural silence. Tim stood leaning one arm against a pole, his body blocking Lyla from walking up the stairs and entering the house. They stood there staring at each other. It was like a dare. She dared him to move over. He dared her to leave.

"So, are you going to let me come in or not?" She finally asked, breaking the silence.

"No." He calmly and coolly answered. "Didn't invite you in the first place."

"I didn't ask," Lyla countered. "I came anyway."

His face was as hard as a rock. "Which means you're trespassing on private property."

Now Lyla was the frustrated one. "Tim! You know what? Fine. I'll leave. I wasn't even going to come in the first place, but Becky…"

She turned to walk back to the car, exasperated. All the hurt of these past few days surfaced once again and overwhelmed her. Suddenly, Tim's hand was on her arm and flipping her around.

"What about Becky?"

Lyla's face had broken with the resurgence of all her pain, and Tim noticed it. "Not just Becky. All of them. Everyone in Dillon. You're all I hear about."

Tim was confused. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Ever since I came back into town. 'Tim Riggins' this and 'Tim Riggins' that. They say you're a recluse now. You're still a drunk, only now you've switched from beer to whiskey. You don't talk to anybody but your nieces and nephew."

Concern washed over Tim's face. "Becky brought you out here…"

"…To see you. Yes," Lyla finished.

Concern switched to anger. "She thought you'd fix me or something stupid like that. Damn it, Becky."

"Hey!" Lyla shouted as he turned back towards the house. "This isn't on Becky. It's on everyone. My first day back in Dillon, I ran into Billy." Tim turned around towards her, a stony, nasty look on his face. "He told me everything, Tim."

"We're done here." Tim said, as he stormed back towards the house. "Please leave before I call the cops."

Lyla was shocked. No, more than that. She was appalled. Outraged, even. "Screw you, Tim Riggins. I don't even know why I came here. I thought perhaps, I was coming to see an old friend. Remember that? Remember when we were friends? I thought you'd like to know I was back in town, ok? I came here to see if you were all right, because honestly, I didn't want to believe Becky and the others. I couldn't believe them, because you've always been all right on your own. You can make it through anything, Tim Riggins. I believe that perhaps more than anyone, but I came here and found out they were right about you. How disappointing. You're turning out exactly how you didn't want to turn out. You know that, right?"

Lyla made it back to her car, exasperated. It was like someone turned up the heat inside her body, because her cheeks were just flared up and her face was so hot, and tears began falling down her cheeks once again. "I don't know where to go," Lyla whispered. She could hardly breathe much less open the door and get back into her car. Maybe the sounds of her cries drowned them out, but she didn't hear Tim walk towards her again until he put his hands on her once again, and coiled his arms around her without turning her around. He let her cry on the roof of her car, but held her tight against him. His head rested on top of hers, and they stood this way for a minute or two, until Lyla could calm down.

Something about this all felt comforting to Lyla. Being here, with Tim holding her. It was like… it was like God had returned to her. She could feel Him once again.

She turned around and wrapped herself around Tim. Her arms laced around his body and her head rested against his chest. He was so warm. He smelled like whiskey, but he also smelled like himself too. He smelled of nostalgia of years gone by. Of beds that they had shared. Of pillows she had once slept on. Of shirts she had once worn. Of a neck she had nestled into long ago. His hands curled around her, one rested down her spine and the other held onto her neck. She could feel his firm muscles. For a drunk who hadn't been playing football in awhile, he was still strong and fit. She could feel it in the way he held her.

"Lyla," he began to say but lost the courage to continue.

"I miss you, Tim," she breathed ever so softly on his chest. She wondered if he heard her but then he squeezed her tighter before letting her go.

"Come on inside. I'll show you around," he drawled as he took her hand and lead her inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Tim didn't actually show her around, but instead sat her down on the thrift store couch. It was terribly tacky, Lyla thought, but it was like Tim to probably pick the cheapest, and most comfortable couch available. As Lyla looked around, she realized that everything in the room seemed to have that thrift store look to it. His house was just as sullen as he was.

"You want something? I got beer, whiskey, water."

Lyla looked up at him with dry but red eyes. "Wine, if you have any."

Tim's lips curled into a smirk. The first one Lyla had seen since her arrival. He turned to walk towards the kitchen. "I'll see what I can rummage up."

Lyla took another good look around the room. No pictures at all, but for Billy's kids on the fireplace mantle. There were hardly any personal effects that made this house truly his, but then again, Tim never quite had a permanent residence before. He was always getting kicked out everywhere he landed. Tim probably didn't have any personal effects but for a few things. It certainly explains the lack of a TV. Tim could do without a lot of things most people couldn't. He'd hate living in Austin. Big cities have a tendency to make you feel like you need to have things. Any and everything. It would drive Tim crazy. Somehow, Tim was exactly where he ought to be even if _he_ wasn't who he ought to be. Lyla might have been a bit jealous. Here she was, crying about not knowing where to go or where her home was, and Tim's had it all along.

_Texas forever._

Her pocket was buzzing. Lyla pulled out the phone and examined it. Two missed texts from Kevin (finally). It must have been his lunch break.

_Sorry babe. Wicked case. Been super busy. _

_Call you tonight. Love you._

Lyla couldn't respond to him. She was still mad at him. The phone went back into her pocket. It was on silent.

"I got something called Rosé? Pink Moscato? That ok?" Tim called out from the kitchen.

"Any wine is fine with me." Rosé? What was he doing with Rosé wine?

Tim emerged from the kitchen with a can of beer in one hand and a wine glass full of pinkish liquid in the other. "I think Tyra musta left this behind. Someone probably bought it for her awhile ago."

Tyra. Right. Lyla accepted the glass and proceeded to drain about half of the sweet pink drink. Tim watched as he fell into the lounge chair a foot away.

"You alright there, Garrity?"

Lyla shook her head. "No. Not really. You?"

Tim chuckled dryly. "I guess not."

The two of them sat there smirking at their mutual bond.

"You wanna talk about it?" Tim drawled.

Lyla looked down into her wine. "No. You?"

"Not 'specially," he replied.

Again, they sat in mutual silence.

"Nice conversation we're having," Lyla remarked. After a beat of silence she asked, "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm back here?"

"Here in Dillon, or here in my house?" He wryly inquired. When Lyla didn't respond, he asked, "Why are you back, Lyla? I thought you were hitting it big in Kentucky."

She looked at him dubiously. "Kentucky? Tim, I live in Austin now. I went to school in _Tennessee_."

"Well I was close." He says as he takes another swig of his beer. "I knew it was somewhere over there. But you came back to good ole Texas."

"That I did."

"Couldn't stay away, could you, Garrity?"

Lyla rolled her eyes. "I got hired at a firm there, yes."

Tim's eyebrows scrunched together into a question. "Firm?"

"I'm a lawyer now."

His eyes widened dramatically then normalized as he stared at his beer bottle. Lyla was sure he was imagining all the work she'd had to do to become a lawyer. Probably thinking about how much he did not envy her in the slightest.

"So that's why you're in Dillon, right? You representin' someone?"

"My dad," she sighed. Lyla felt like she'd told the entire town of Dillon the reason for her return. She felt like she didn't have the energy to do it again.

Tim didn't seem the least bit phased. "Oh right."

Lyla's eyebrow arched. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, I knew he had gotten arrested. Just slipped my mind," he answered.

She was even more curious than before. "How did you know?"

"I still work at his bar sometimes when I'm not working at the factory. Not often, but whenever he needs the help or I need the money," he responded like it was nothing.

All of this was new information to Lyla. "My dad hired you for a job? What bar?"

"Buddy's."

"No, Tim. What's the bar's name?"

"_Buddy's._ It's a sports bar. Your dad gave me a job when I got out of prison myself. I suppose Becky told you 'bout that right? Damn girl can't keep her mouth shut about nothin'."

That really irked Lyla. "Hey! Don't you say a word about her. Ever since coming back into town, she has been my only friend. She offered to help me try to find my brother when she didn't have to. Becky has been wonderful. She's so worried about you. Don't berate her. Don't you dare. And I did know about your incarceration but Becky wasn't the one who told me. It was Billy."

Tim smirked into his next swig of beer, but it wasn't a happy smile. "He can't order a beer without telling his sob story about how guilty he feels that I went to jail."

Lyla looked at him incredulously. "If you would talk to him just once, maybe you'd know that he isn't doin' so well. He's working back at the shop after Coach Taylor left and he's not making ends meet, Tim, and Mindy's pregnant again. Did you even know that? Did you know that your brother's having another baby? You don't even talk to your own family, so how would you know that. And what's your excuse, huh?"

Lyla put her wine glass on the coffee table, and abruptly got up from the couch. "You know what your problem is, Tim? It's not that you lost a year of your life in jail five years ago. It's that you've lost five years of your life to resentment and alcohol, but that's on you this time. You can't pin that on your brother. He's trying, and you're… not."

She shouldn't have come here. Lyla realized that now. She should have left when he told her to earlier. This was a waste of her time. Being in Dillon has been a waste of her time. Lyla made her way from the living room towards the wooden front door.

"Where are you staying?" Tim asks and it seems like such a random thing to ask after Lyla's accusations, but there was something about his voice. It was softened. Perhaps Lyla's words made a crack in the wall Tim had built around himself.

She stopped, unable to go forward. "My dad's apartment," she answered softly.

Tim lifted out of his chair and sauntered over to her, leaving his beer bottle on the end table. "If you don't want to…" he began and then stopped. He took a hold of a few fingertips on her right hand. He played with them as their hands hung at their sides. "You could stay here, if you wanted. If you don't want to stay at Buddy's. I know that can't be easy after everything."

Tim watched as he fiddled with her fingers, unable to look into her eyes, but Lyla gazed into his willingly. "You're offering me a room to stay?" She questioned barely louder than a whisper.

Soon the fiddling became weaving. Tim's fingers laced into hers as they had done so many times before. The simple act made Lyla's heart jump. It was like an electric current running from his hand jolted throughout her entire body through her palm.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he replied.

Lyla's voice was barely audible and her words were weak. "I can't."

"Why not?" He asked, just as softly. His eyes, now softer and kind, finally met hers.

Lyla opened her mouth but couldn't find a solid answer. Kevin's name was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to mention him. Not while Tim's fingers were entwined in hers. Not while his soft brown eyes looked at her and made her feel like she was seventeen again.

"Don't go just yet." He murmured instead. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, but please don't leave."

"I thought I was trespassing," she teased under her breath.

A hand rose and brushed a loose strand of hair back behind Lyla's ear. His finger ever so lightly grazed against her skin and a warmth lingered there afterwards. "That was before. Now you have a standing invitation."

"What changed?" Lyla asked.

His eyes gazed upon her with desire. They trailed from her eyes to her hair down to her jaw, lips, and back around again. "I always make the mistake of tryin' to push you away, and every time I'm reminded of how much I actually need you, Lyla." Tim was impossibly close now. Too close, maybe. "Where have you been the past five years?" He asked with lust and longing and the words sounded so saccharine in her ears.

"Tim," Lyla whispered and he bent closer. "Tim, no…"

He shifted back; a look of hurt already encompassed his face. She shouldn't have let him touch her. She shouldn't have let him hold her, or play with her fingers, or stroke her face. Lyla knew better than this. "Tim… I'm engaged."

There it was. The thing she didn't want to talk about. It took the shape of a golden band encrusted with diamonds and it called her left ring finger home. It glittered in the rays of the sun that poured in through the window as she held it up for Tim to see. It cost a small fortune – more than Tim probably made in the past six months. Its weight seemed to have tripled since calling Becky this afternoon. The closer she got to Tim Riggins, the heavier it felt on her finger.

Tim fell back, and back, until he, once again, had his beer in hand. His eyes fell off of her and wouldn't look upon her or the ring. "What's his name?" He asked cordially but the hardness returned to his voice. He'd patched up the hole she made in his wall.

Lyla's cheeks flushed red. She could barely find her voice. "Kevin."

He took a long pull of beer to digest this all this information. "How long you been with this guy?"

"…About a year."

"And you love him?"

It took Lyla a moment for her mouth to form the word. "Yes."

Tim finally sat down on the couch where Lyla rose from moments ago, clearly resigned. "He treat you good?"

Lyla's eyes began to sting and the tears welled up into her eyes. She forbade them from falling. "Yes."

He sighed and finished the remains of his bottle. There was a long silence that followed. Tim wrestled with the news of her engagement, and Lyla stood like a statue, halfway between Tim and the door. A part of her felt like running back to the apartment. Back to Austin. Back to Kevin. But she was mad at Kevin. So a part of her felt like running to Tim. Comforting him. Making sure he was ok. Her legs would not move in either direction.

"Ok." He finally said, though it didn't sound very ok.

"Ok?" She asked, just to be sure.

"Ok." Tim lifted himself off of the couch and began walking towards the kitchen. "You want some more wine? Still got beer if you want some."

"I should go," she says, her cheeks still red and hot with embarrassment.

"Lyla," he calls out, "Don't go yet. I meant what I said."

She peered at him through the kitchen entryway. His eyes were steady and true. Becky was right. Tim is different with her. In just one visit, she got him to open up more than he has with anyone in years.

"Meant what?" She asks.

"All of it." He said with resolution. "You're welcome to stay here."

Again, Lyla's heart leapt. She didn't want to hurt him anymore and he seemed to want her company, despite the ring that laid on her finger. "Ok."

He grabbed his second beer bottle, shut the door, and turned around. A sliver of a smile was on his lips. It was poorly hidden. "I'll go fix up your room."


End file.
